Hello, Goodbye, and Thank You
by bluepoppies
Summary: In that moment, he no longer looked like the tough, foul-mouthed idiot who would greet her with a scowl every morning. He looked like a lost little kid who was just trying to make things better again, somehow. His eyes had lost that rebellious, irritated fire that she had come to know so well. This was not the normal Ichigo, and she didn't like it. First story, please comment
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! Before you start reading may I say how happy I am you've decided to read my story. ^^ This is my first story. I know its not the best *sobs* But everything is a work in progress and just like you, I have no idea what'll happen next (JK, I have some ideas). But no more stalling. I now present "Hello, Goodbye, and Thank You" *Please Enjoy***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or MASH *please don't sue me***

* * *

Hello, Thank You &amp; Goodbye

Prologue

The sound of bombs echoed off the canyon walls, making the already overwhelming racket rise and fall in a crescendo of deafening noise. Artillery started and stopped in spurts of staccato accompanied by the steady beat of mortar shells firing back and forth like a morbid game of hot potato. When one fired, the other responded until neither side had enough ammo, or bodies, left to throw at each other. This is the beginning of a typical day at the front of one of the latest wars to end all others and it was certainly living up to its name at the moment.

Within a few chip shots of the front line, sat the famous compound of the 4215th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, or MASH, for short. Why this unit was so famous, or rather infamous, was a point of speculation that was never really pondered all that deeply. It seemed as if it had always had a reputation for its crazy-but-remarkable medical techniques and its practically insane staff. Today though all childish antics and neurotic pranks had been put on hold as sirens blared their warnings of artillery fire and mortar shells as both rained down on the camp. Few to none were stupid enough to be caught dead outside (literally) the main building which also served as the base of medical operations.

While outside it seemed like a ghost-town save for the deadly game of monkey-in-the-middle, inside was a swath of bustling people, dressed in varying degrees of white gowns with matching masks and gloves. It was a sea of chaos as men and women hustled back and forth, shouts and orders flying overhead with the whistling of rockets outside. They carried everything from gauze and metallic instruments to stretchers piled high with filthy mounds that resembled human beings. Just as outside, two opposing forces grappled for dominance, inside they were fighting for something far more precious than politics or borders as they struggled with life and death in the balance.

While they didn't look like much, these people were some of the best in the business, considering the circumstances. On a slow day, some would regress to a juvenile state of mind as the boredom and monotony plagued the camp. But when it came down to taking people apart and putting them together again like some macabre jigsaw puzzle, you could count on all of them in a heartbeat.

Not just the doctors and surgeons, but also the nurses and the aides and other staff all pitched in with what they could do and supported others in what they couldn't. Despite their rather strange demeanor, there was always a feeling of comraderie and compassion beneath their infantile taunts and silly pranks. The way they saw it, they were all in the same sinking boat and it was a far better idea to keep it sailing than to swim for shore alone. Of course, that didn't always stop them from rocking it every now and then.

Each member held different ideas about what it meant to be insane, and at one point they tried to debate over who was the most deranged of the group, but this only served to prove how there truly was no such thing as sanity in the first place. But sometimes that same maniacal way of thinking came in handy in a pinch, especially when lives were on the line. Their madly scientific brains had saved many a person from an untimely, and greatly unwanted, demise.

Today too was no exception as bodies poured in through the halls in a river of flesh tangled in metal. At the far table, one Captain Ichigo "Strawberry" Kurosaki stood doubled over a patient, nearly up to his elbows inside one man's torso as he dug around for hidden shrapnel. Other than the fact that he was an outstanding surgeon, there was always an aura of mystery that surrounded him. He didn't really try to open up to others as far as personal matters were concerned. But it was not as if he was completely unapproachable either as he did have friends. But his rather foggy past and aloof nature often led others to speculate about him and the rumor mill was never without a few stories surrounding his origins (the most famous of which is his nickname).

These theories (which were widespread) along with his delinquent appearance (a rather loud shock of messy, bright orange hair) had given many the impression that he was a troublemaker. To the contrary, he was a quiet and thoughtful individual who, on slow days, would usually be off in his bunk or the mess tent, reading or spending time with his fellow bunkmates. (Un)fortunately for him, some of these friendships would result in his involvement (whether warranted or not) in their schemes. Overall, he was, despite some of his own issues, a good person.

Assisting the captain was a slim, petite woman with a mess of midnight black hair pulled back (save a few strands on her forehead) into a neat ponytail. Except for the sporadic clink of metal on metal, there was only silence between them as he gently, though rapidly placed each shard on an outstretched tray. Her critical, bluish-violet eyes missed nothing as she thoroughly observed the operation. Besides the occasional muttering of "Clamp" or "Sponge" they said little as both were fixated on the procedure and did not wish to break the shaky truce they'd established.

Major Rukia Kuchiki was, above all other things, a no-nonsense woman. Being both a regular army brat and the unit's Head Nurse, she was practically trained since birth to uphold the law and all other formalities whenever possible. Unfortunately, the rather laidback attitude of her staff and fellow doctors would more often than not clash with these ideals. Needless to say, the feeling was mutual. However, despite her small stature, her raging temper coupled with her family's military training assured that she would find few actual objections. One of these few (but hardly proud) objectors was none other than Ichigo.

It was either sheer coincidence or very cruel fate that had led to their rocky partnership. Since day one, neither was too fond of the other. Through each subsequent encounter, as well as several very unfortunate situations, this already rocky start had begun to crumble underfoot. His disdain for the pomp and ceremony of war clashed with her outgoing patriotism. At nearly every meeting, at least one punch (usually hers) would be thrown. As far as they were concerned the other was on the opposite pole of another planet at the completely other end of the universe. Their spats, brutal as they may be, provided excellent entertainment for the rest of the compound, and so were not really discouraged.

Their small island of silence, however, was swallowed up by the surrounding chaos as a seemingly endless stream of bodies, young and sometimes too young, flowed through the OR, the buzz of activity within mimicking the cacophony of war just outside.

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**Whew! So, not bad for a first time, yeah?**

**I know it gets a little repetitive, but I had this whole image rolling around in my head. I kind of wanted it to have the same sort of feeling of watching a TV show or movie. Historically (and especially medically), it may not be the most accurate. But I am doing my best. As I said above, this is all a work in progress and a learning experience for me. Everything is subject to change. But I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts.**

**Comments and Critiques (and some plain old advice on life in general) are welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So that's what that button does. Hello again. If you've decided to continue with this (most likely) hopeless adventure, I would be A) very surprised and B) collapsing under the pressure.**

**But seriously thank you so much to those who have already expressed their support for this story. I'm also extremely thankful (and very excited) for the reviews that I've already received. I hope to live up to the beautiful people's expectations.**

**Anyway, welcome to the first official chapter of this story. And without further ado, I wish you happy reading :)Disclaimer: I own neither Bleach nor MASH *I'm not worth much so please don't sue me***

Episode 1

Ichigo thought of himself as a simple guy. And as with any simple guy, he only asked for simple things in life. He didn't think this was too much to ask.

To his credit, the day started out relatively simple. He woke at a reasonable time (2:00 PM), had (an extremely overestimated) healthy breakfast, and settled into a (particularly dusty) comfortable nook under a tree for a few hours of peace and quiet with a book.

But unfortunately, Ichigo's current location was neither simple nor peaceful as he soon found himself running among stretchers, checking each and every occupant. All he could hear was the deafening hum of choppers overhead and the shouts of doctors below coupled with the occasional cry of pain.

The casualties were a bit light today; that was always a good sign.

"It'd be even better if there were none at all, though." He mumbled.

Ichigo was a simple man who preferred simple things. Being a doctor in a MASH unit was anything but simple.

Among the wounded he saw a rather large man leaning over another, applying pressure to a particularly nasty-looking stomach wound. The man was from Battalion Aid and it looked like he'd seen the worst of the fight.

Another Aid corpsman noticed Ichigo and told him in passing, "He hasn't left that guy since we loaded him on the truck."

Despite the man's tall, intimidating stature, Ichigo immediately walked over to him, squatted down, and began examining the patient thoroughly, glancing every now and then at the man as well.

He was not only tall, but had a very muscular build under his ragged uniform. What surprised Ichigo was that he was clearly a foreigner. Normally, for convenience, a unit is composed of officers from the same country, or at least anyone who could speak the same language. To his even greater surprise was the man's ability to speak Japanese very fluently as he said, "Doctor, this man needs help now. Don't know how long I can keep this up."

At this, Ichigo broke out of his stupor and made to look like he was busy. As he rose, he noticed a few spots of blood that definitely did not look like mere stains. He (accidentally) let his thoughts slip, "Speak for yourself, idiot."

He got down again, this time to check the corpsman himself, who was taken aback at the doctor's forwardness. He quickly recovered and made to defend himself.

"It's really not as bad as it looks, sir. And protocol states that the soldiers come first."

"Quit tryin' to be a hero, you'll only die faster." Ichigo drawled. "Hold still and let me look at that properly."

With the other soldier already carried off to OR, he examined the medic more closely. Most of the bleeding was around the chest area and, while it didn't look that deep, it looked like he had lost a lot of blood.

There was an air of heavy silence around them as almost everyone had already moved inside to operate. In an effort to ease the tension Ichigo began,

"Mind telling me how this happened?"

"Artillery shell. Tried to cover the other guy."

He spoke carefully, in broken up phrases. That was fine with Ichigo. He didn't need to hear his whole life's story. They didn't say anymore as he helped him inside the OR.

While the weather outside may have been a clear, almost cloudless day, a storm was brewing inside surgery with one very irate Rukia at its center.

_How dare that arrogant buffoon waste valuable time on a mere sergeant when they have a wounded lieutenant in dire need of medical attention._

This was definitely not a distraction to cover her disappointment at her family's lack of correspondence in the past few months. Nope, not at all.

She continued her inner tirade against the incompetence of certain male individuals as she assisted Doctor Ishida with his patient, every so often shooting a look that could curdle milk in said buffoon's direction.

Despite her air of cool confidence, some of her compatriots could have sworn that they felt a slight drop of temperature in her vicinity that was definitely not due to the morning chill. But in spite of the more than tempestuous atmosphere, everyone, including a completely oblivious Ichigo, managed to escape relatively unscathed and without incident.

As Ichigo finally finished closing up his last patient, he found his mind once again wandering back to the strange, foreign man he'd met just earlier._ I'll just go take a look_, he told himself. With soiled scrubs and mask still on, he opened the door into the adjacent hall and scanned the room. Sure enough, there he stood in the far corner, still dressed in dirty, ragged clothes that seemed to barely fit his massive frame, looking without a care in the world. But the long, dark mange of hair made it hard to actually tell this.

"Table for one. Right this way, sir." His sarcastic drawl contradicted his rather blank face. "Please leave your coat and all valuables at the door." He waved his hand in the general direction of a pile of cardboard boxes to illustrate his point.

The man hesitated for a moment, head bobbing back and forth between the doctor and containers.

"Don't worry." Ichigo cut in, all sense of humor gone. "This place may be full of lying, cheating, raving lunatics, but I highly doubt there's anyone among us who's a thief.

This seemed to placate the man slightly, as he began to shed his torn, bloodied clothes. The last thing he discarded, save his trousers, was a small golden pendant, no bigger than a coin. This he held gently in his palm for a moment, running his thumb almost absent-mindedly across the surface before setting it carefully within the folds of his jacket. Ichigo said nothing when he saw this. After all, it was not his business and he never considered himself a busybody.

Sometime later in the evening, when all the lights had been extinguished and the staff had long since retired for the night, a lone figure, obscured by the shadows quietly made his way through the compound and stealthily entered the storage archives.**Gah! Can't find division line!Sooo? What do you think? I'm still kind of exploring perspectives and writing styles, so it may not be all that coherent. But I am learning (keep telling yourself that). Once again, thank you so so much to those who commented on my last post and I hope you will continue to support this story and these characters. Also just a heads-up, I may not be able to get my next chapter up for a little while (it's not done). *sobs***

**Because everything's still in a state of development, I would really appreciate any comments, reviews, or ideas that y'all have. I'll do my best to answer any questions you may have to the best of my ability. In summary: Questions, Comments, and Concerns are all welcome! Until next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! Look, I'm not dead! (I've always wanted to say that ;) )**

**But really, I'm so, so sorry that I haven't updated anything for so long. I have nothing to blame but a bad case of writer's block and a very busy schedule.**

**I know that it's probably a bit scattered and incoherent, but honestly I'm just sort of setting it up for the next chapter which should be a lot more interesting. Just a fair bit of warning, Ichigo is a bit of a wet blanket (he's just been so hard to write lately) and there is a little bit of cussing (it's rated T for a reason) so if you're 13 or younger, I would suggest not reading any further for your own protection.**

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but the clothes on my back***

Episode 2

The sun rose in hues of pink and yellow with barely a hoot from a far off owl to signal its ascent. As the fiery ball of gas made it's lazy, agonizingly slow climb into the big bowl of blue above the camp, a lowly clerk, ranked no higher than corporal made his own journey to the center of the compound.

He sported a clipboard in one hand and a small bugle, tattered, but not irreparably so, in the other as he silently crept between tents and down alleys of canvas and sheet metal.

It wasn't really necessary that he be so careful. He could've had cannons launching a 21-gun salute to the tune of the entire New York Philharmonic with a whole platoon's worth of fireworks blazing in their full, star-spangled glory and no one would've so much as stirred.

By the time he'd found his place beneath the flagpole, the sun had gone from a gentle glowing sphere to a fiery orb, spitting light and heat across the earth. Despite the already arid temperature, he knew it was only just starting to climb. Hastily, he set himself up for the day.

Remembering all he could from the 20 minute bugle exercises in training, he first wet his lips thoroughly. As he did so, he began to move them over each other to cover as much area as possible. Had anyone been semi-conscious at that point, they would have laughed at the poor man. He was grateful for the solitude.

Feeling as prepared as could be under the circumstances, he raised the bugle to his lips. Slowly breathing in and through his nose, he counted each intake of air along with his throbbing heartbeat. Again he was thankful that none but himself was present. His stage fright alone would have reduced him to a pile of unidentifiable goo at his audience's feet.

Counting the beat with his foot, he inhaled deeply and—"Goooood Morning, Everyone!"

A tidal wave of groans and curses surged as one throughout the camp, directing all the negativity they could muster at the speakers (or more precisely, the man at the controls).

"It is now 7 o'clock and what a gorgeous day it's shaping up to be, no?"

A shoe was thrown with incredible accuracy at the nearest speaker. As the almost maniacally cheery voice bore down on the tents, the rest of the compound began stirring from its short, much beloved sleep.

"Now on to the weather. Currently it is somewhere between 10 and 22 degrees Celsius and is expected to go no higher for the rest of the week."

Ichigo turned on his side, but found the sun's cheerfully bright light as offensive as a bucket of ice-water.

"The forecast today calls for little rain of bullets and minimal casualties throughout the week."

In an admittedly valiant (but futile) effort to drown out the rising clamor of the camp and possibly return to that sweet, soft haven that was sleep, he buried his face into his pillow, wrapping the ends around his ears and lay there blind and deaf on his cot.

"Later on, light rain is expected to fall around 8 to 10 PM, 50 miles west of here."

But alas, the need for oxygen again won out and he rose stiffly out of his bed. He then began a slow, agonizing crawl outside. Whether it was to the mess tent or the latrine, it all depended on which was closer.

X-X

The first thing Ichigo hoped to encounter was a tray full of perfectly browned toast (with butter and/or jam) along with two gorgeous sunny side up eggs and maybe even a few slabs of roasted (preferably glazed) ham. What greeted him instead was a cup of black sludge that had been coffee in a previous life followed by a smile so sweet it gave him cavities just looking at it, not to mention the face it belonged to.

"Ichi, buddy, how ya been?"

Ichigo said nothing, the look on his face was enough to fill an entire dictionary of every colorful phrase and gesture known to man. However, instead of grinding his knee into the fool's face, Ichigo answered his question with another question.

"What do you want, Kon?"

The look in his beady little black eyes and giant moronic grin was enough for him to have regretted crawling out of bed this morning. Whatever business Kon had gotten himself into, there was a very good chance that Ichigo would be dragged into it as well, kicking and screaming the whole way.

"That's a real nice way to greet one of the few friends you've got in this camp, pal."

"Is this the same 'friend' who stole my entire month's savings just so he could get cheap booze and easy women, and then have the gall to ask for bail money the next day?"

Kon tried (and failed) to give his best boys-will-be-boys sheepish grin and twinkling eyes. He wanted to wipe it off his face. Preferably with his fist.

"Aaw, you know you love me. And you know that because you love me, you'd do practically anything for me, right?"

Ichigo felt something rather large and heavy begin to sink in his gut and he knew it wasn't the coffee. He sighed, long and low, like an old balloon that was slowly but surely caving in on itself in its final days of deflation.

"What did you do?"

He didn't even need to look at him to know what was coming next. Experience told him to batten down the hatches before the storm hit and wait until it left. What experience should have told him was to always expect the unexpected when dealing with Kon.

"Well, you see, I kind of got into a bit of a bad spot with some rather important people of questionable business practices and a certain degree of moral bankruptcy."

"You got involved with the black market, didn't you?"

"Just a tad."

Now was the time to cut and run.

"Forget it, Kon. I am not sticking my neck out for you again. I mean it. Not after the stunts you pulled last time."

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad. You just like to exaggerate."

Was it exaggerating when the last time Ichigo bailed him out had involved some spark plugs, a wheelbarrow, half a dozen call-girls, and one very upset chicken farmer? Okay, maybe a little. But he still felt really sore about those chickens.

"But Ichi—"

"No, you're an adult, even if you don't act like it. You made this mess, you clean it up."

It was about time Kon learned to take care of himself without running behind the nearest human shield for protection, which was usually Ichigo. Kon had to grow up and be a man.

"Nooooo, pleeeease don't leave me like this. I thought we had something special here. And now, now you're just gonna throw it away? Throw me away?"

Here came the crocodile tears. Kon was not holding back, this was his final trump card that always won him over in the end. At least it used to.

"That may have worked when we were seven. But not anymore."

But Kon wasn't taking no for an answer. He clung tightly to Ichigo, like a lost little kid. He looked like a kicked puppy with those dark eyes now watery with fake tears. As he began to whimper a reply, a third party entered the fray.

"May I ask what you two buffoons are doing so early in the morning?"

That little knot of dread inside of Ichigo's stomach just got a little tighter. He really did not want to turn around. Kon on the other hand, looked like he'd struck gold. Fake tears and snot continued to run down his face as he leapt to embrace the petite major.

"Ruki—urgh!"

Kon's lips, expecting to touch something soft and sweet, were instead met with the hard, coarse wood of one of the mess tent's post. Rukia stood up after having ducked to avoid whatever monstrosity had launched itself from Ichigo's leg. Guess the food had finally started moving.

Paying it no more mind, she instead turned her attention to the giant, orange-haired ape that was Ichigo Kurosaki.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Care to explain yourself? I could hear your idiotic howling clear across the compound. "

"Dogs howl, Major. And as far as I know, the only dog in this camp is the one currently begging for scraps."

He pointed a finger behind her where what used to be Corporal Kon Kurosaki sat against a slightly dented pole. Ichigo could practically see the tail wagging behind him as he gazed up at her. Rukia, however, refused to turn around.

"That is not the least bit funny, Captain."

"It wasn't a joke."

She let out a small huff and folded her arms. She wasn't letting him go, huh?

"Look, Major, as much as I would like to stay and chat over a cup of delicious coffee, I've got the next shift in Post-op, so if you don't mind?"

Rukia kept her mouth shut and let him pass. She was too tired to lecture at the moment. But the look that followed him all the way out of the tent told him he was far from safe. This was most assuredly not over.

Ichigo hadn't lied. He really did have the next shift in Post-op. But the current shift wouldn't end for another half hour or so. In the meantime, he had to find a place to hide. That was a difficult thing to do in a place where people could spot you from 200 yards away, in the dark.

Maybe he could lay low in his tent for a while if his roommate wasn't there. But with the luck Ichigo had, that wasn't too likely.

The person in question, Captain Uryuu Ishida, was busy organizing his already pristinely kept suitcase. Ishida was what many people would call a "hard-ass". Being a doctor and his roommate, Ichigo's diagnosis was instead just a mild case of "stick up his butt". But from the look he shot Ichigo, there was so sign of recovery.

"Kurosaki, don't tell me you went outside with that **thing** on your face."

Ichigo sensed an insult brewing behind those glasses, but went along with it anyway.

"Have you finally gone blind, Uryuu? There's nothing on my face."

Without so much as a second glance, Uryuu shot his comeback with the same casual air as when he returned to his task.

"Oh, I forgot. That's how it always looks."

Did he kill a couple dozen puppies in his past life? Maybe he was just born under a ladder near a black cat sanctuary.

"Listen, Kurosaki. While you're conscious, I have just one request that I'm sure even your abnormally small brain can accomplish."

"Sure, Uryuu. Just be sure to use small words so you don't get tongue-tied."

"Whenever you happen to be within range of my sight, do your best to refrain from any outburst of friendship or comraderie. Do this and we both might just survive this troublesome bunk arrangement."

Ichigo considered leaving it at that. He usually wasn't one to push his luck. Usually.

"And I was so looking forward to doing each other's hair and talking out boys."

Uryuu whirled on him at that. Ichigo swore that if the pole and stove supporting their haphazard shelter weren't between them, Uryuu would've once again been the tent's sole resident. Relatively assured of his safety, Ichigo returned to the small piece of heaven that was his bed, and promptly proceeded to pass out.

X-X

The obnoxious blares of a jeep as it cruised through the compound were the first to greet Ichigo as he blearily shuffled out of his decidedly subtler subconscious. One blurry glance outside his tent told him that his little "afternoon nap" was just a few hours short of qualifying for a coma. He'd have to train more later.

Without sitting up he scanned the rest of his quarters, rolling over his bed as he did so. No bespectacled, blue-eyed hard-ass in sight. He almost regretted having to leave.

But his duty (and another hand on a jeep's horn) compelled him to trudge promptly away from his temporary safehouse. Against his better nature, he headed in the very direction of said racket to find a very irate looking jarhead at the wheel joined soon after by his equally scowling (though better looking) twin. Though neither looked alike, they did share the same fashion sense of a soft puke green uniform, accessorized by a large black and white MP armband.

The first man spotted Ichigo and barked with a voice reminding him of a pit bull.

"Are you the commanding officer of this outfit?"

Ichigo had seen far scarier in the mess tent.

"And if I'm not?"

"Then call him here before I have you dipped headfirst in tar, blondie."

Why was it always the hair first?

"Maybe I should escort you fine gentlemen to the showers, or better yet the latrine. I hear the water's just right this time of year."

Dogface #1 began to visibly steam as Ichigo watched red veins bloom across his temple and neck. Dogface #2 was well on his way to cardiac arrest if the clenched jaw and fist was any indication.

#1 was on the verge of either spontaneously combusting or attempting to rip Ichigo's face off when his knight in shining armor appeared. Or it could have been just a ticked off midget, but Ichigo wasn't one to argue.

"Kurosaki, do you know when your shift starts or can you just not grasp the concept of time."

She stood in front of him, hands on hips, fire in her eyes, and rather conveniently sandwhiched between him and the Dogface twins. Either she had just saved his skin or just joining the team. One way or the other, he wasn't planning to stick around.

Plastering the biggest fake smile he could muster (which looked more like a grimace to anyone that saw), he addressed them all with a cordial, though slipshod bow to the waist.

"Major Kuchiki, what a pleasant surprise. I was just coming to report to you that these two gracious officers were here to see you."

Rukia's confusion only showed if one had looked her closely in the eye, but none were really brave enough to do so. She did, however, respond with an intelligent tone of inquiry. "Huh?"

As she turned to face the equally perplexed men, Ichigo saw an opening and quietly began to circle the jeep. Now to sell it he laid the final lines of introduction with a cover story that would make Kon cheer with joy.

"Y'see, our company's CO is just always so swamped, he can barely leave his office for fresh air let alone come all the way out here. I doubt he's even seen this side of the camp since we first set it up. That's why Major Kuchiki here's been so kindly acting as substitute CO. She's so good at it, sometimes we end up calling her Colonel by mistake."

Before Rukia could voice an objection, Ichigo hightailed it with the smoothest fastwalk she'd ever seen. He could give her brother a run for his money. Unfortunately for her, she was now left to deal with some very eager and none too friendly-looking guests.

X-X

**Oh no! What will poor Rukia do? Where did Ichigo run off to?**

**I don't know about you guys, but I still feel like something's missing. Maybe I should title my chapters or something? Let me know what you think. **

**Again I'm really sorry that the quality isn't all that great. Please believe me when I say, I will try harder. **

**That being said, maybe I should get a proofreader (or "beta" as you young folks like to call them). Anybody willing is more than welcome to volunteer *shameless begging***

**And speaking of welcome volunteers, feel free to leave any comments, questions, or concerns.**

***Insert Catchphrase Here***


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